


The Trial of a Time Lady

by redjaded (timeheist)



Series: The Redjay [4]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeheist/pseuds/redjaded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were two reasons, and two reasons only, that the Redjay and the Master would work together. Firstly, if the life of somebody they both cared for, in their own ways, was in danger and secondly, for a chance to cause the High Council some real trouble. The Doctor's trial was both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Trial of a Time Lord](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/64191) by Robert Holmes, BBC Entertainment. 



> This story is meant to be nothing more than a simple companion piece to the canon The Trial of a Time Lord and as such, doesn't go into much detail about Roda's exact actions, or the main story (see link below). It takes place during Roda's 5th regeneration, and alludes to her own trial and exile during her 2nd regeneration, but in no more capacity than I've already done so (thus: no serious spoilers).

When the pillar materialized in front of her eyes Rodageitmososa wasn’t remotely surprised. That didn’t mean to say she wasn’t agitated; after all, the Master had been stalking her for hours. Her TARDIS had picked up a signal saying something was wrong with Ravalox, a planet she knew to be incredibly close to Earth, and had gone to have a look, but the second she'd landed, her alarms had gone off. She'd left the TARDIS to try and lose the Master, but she should have known never to underestimate a madman like him. If the Master wanted to find someone then he would find them, whatever the cost. Even the Doctor wouldn’t be able to hide from him and the Redjay – for everything she was – was no Doctor.

Even here on Ravalox, the Master could latch onto her telepathic signal and seek her out from over a mile off. But when the Master stepped out of his TARDIS, pointing his damned tissue compression eliminator at her, Roda allowed herself a smirk. He seemed surprised enough; he didn't know she'd regenerated. At least she had one small, vain victory. On that front at least she had something of an upper hand for once. But that didn’t explain what he wanted to see her for – they'd hardly parted on the best of terms – and her guard remained up as it could around no other.

“Master.”

“Yes, Redjay.” The Master scoffed. “Astute as always.” The Time Lord walked closer, keeping his weapon aimed undeniably at her thorax. “I see unlike the Doctor you’ve finally dropped your penchant for unseemly colours.” Roda raised an eyebrow. “A little Doctor told me, don't act so surprised.” He lifted a strand of her now thick black hair, toying with it until Roda smacked his hand away. The Master tsked. “I'm sure this is... marginally better.”

Roda growled. “I liked the pink. How many Time Ladies have pink hair?”

“None with self respect.”

Roda ignored the Master. “Well at least,” She drew herself up to her full height, still wary of the TCE, as the Master grinned at his small victory. “I don’t cling to the look of a fashion blind Count Dracula. What next, a cloak? A pair of prosthetic fangs? I could point you in the direction of a good plastic surgeon from Alpha Minor-“

“There is nothing wrong with my teeth.”

“One nil to the Redjay.” Roda smirked, and carried on regardless. “I’d suggest a taller collar to hide the beard.”

“Redjay you are as insufferable as the Doctor!”

Roda folded her arms, simply rolling her eyes as the Master jabbed the TCE under her chin. She hadn’t realised he was still as close to her as he was. Suppressing a shudder, she lifted her hands above her head mockingly. She didn't particularly fear for her life, at least not yet. Clearly, he wanted something. Still, she cursed as he took the arrows from her quiver and snapped all six in half. Unarmed. Great.

“What do you want?”

“Quite a lot of things, not least of all your head on a plate-”

“Classy.”

“But for once, Redjay,” The Master narrowed his eyes but didn't miss a beat. He never had liked being interrupted, “you must understand I am not here to kill you.”

“And why should I believe a word you say?” Roda bared her teeth. The Master snorted and scratched his bearded jaw casually.

“Because Redjay had I meant to kill you, you would already be dead!” Roda snorted, forced to admit he was telling the truth. The Master cleared his throat, and then let his voice slip into a lower tone. Like the velvet of his coat his words seemed to slide over the air like oil, smooth as ice, like a cobra reassuring its dinner. “Turn around.”

“Why should-“

“Turn around or I will turn you around.”

Roda kept her hands in the air and slowly turned. She tried to tilt her head to see him but a jerk of the Master’s, as he pulled away the TCE, cowed her into reluctant obedience. She stared imploringly at passers-by instead, widening her eyes in a silent plea for help. 

“If you’re going to shoot me in the back, that’s low even for you.”

The Master chuckled, voice still slick. “Don’t tempt me. Now, put your hands together behind your back.” Roda grinned, reaching for her knife as she did so, and the Master coughed meaningfully. “Reach for a weapon, and I shoot.”

“I thought you weren’t here to kill me.”

Roda clasped her hands together and glared, flinching as she felt the TCE press against her neck. It was cold, and unforgiving, and she’d seen it in action more times than she cared to recall on Bandraginus Five. The Master produced a length of Traken rope and began to methodically truss her wrists together, the pattern complicated. Finally, she stilled. A more rational voice told her that escape was only possible so long as she was alive and fully conscious. She may have had the Master’s word that she wouldn’t be killed – yet, and what was his word to go on anyway? – but she’d be a fool to expect anything more.

The Master held on to her wrists and bade her walk back to his TARDIS and for now the Redjay let herself be led, going over ideas in her head. The Master left her to stand in the centre of his console room and Roda didn’t speak again until she heard the familiar thrum of take-off. A sigh escaped her lips, and she repeated her question.

“What do you want with me? Why am I here?”

“It appears, my dear, that we have a common interest.” The Master made no move to untie Roda, and pocketed the TCE arrogantly. Roda snorted, realising the futility of trying anything funny in the Master’s inner sanctum.

“And what would that be?”

“Saving the Doctor,” The Master raised an eyebrow, “From certain death.” Roda fell quiet. The Master – after putting the last of his instructions into the navigational cortex – came up to her with a satisfied glow in his eyes. “I see I have your attention at last. I was beginning to think,” He flicked his wrist and like a stage-show magician swung a shining orb in front of her eyes like a pendulum, voice turning even more seductive. “I’d have to resort to hypnotics.”

“Save your theatrics for someone who gives a damn, and get to the point.” Roda blew a strand of hair out of her dark, almost black eyes. “My telepathy isn’t that bad.” It took every fibre of her will power not to try and run, or attack the Master. She drew herself up higher – onto the tips of her toes – as he pouted and broached her personal space, trying to keep her distracted. “Where’s the Doctor?” She gave a tiny jerk of her elbows, trying to work loose a blade tucked into her shirt sleeve while passing it off as an itch. “And why would you want to help him?”

When Roda had learned that the Doctor knew the Master too, it had actually been an accident. He'd come up casually, like one would mention an old lover, of a long-ago friend, someone you should keep in touch with, but didn't. She'd tried to change the subject but the Doctor had caught on, and they'd had a long, uncomfortable conversation about the man. At least Roda knew her enemy a little better now, but it had only confirmed her fears that he was insane, and evil. The Master rested his hands behind his back thoughtfully, oblivious to her musing.

“I’ll admit that I’d like nothing better than to see the Doctor brought to his knees but I won’t abide competition.”

He started to pace around her, to another point on his console, with a predator's grace. Roda turned with him, sawing slowly and purposefully at the strong ropes binding her wrists as she did so. Her hip bumped against the console, and she turned her head for only a second before regarding the Master like he might suddenly take a bite out of her. Satisfied that she’d done her side no real damage, she let out a long breath, scowling at him. The Master forced her to stand only an inch from the dials as she worked surreptitiously.

Roda laughed in the face of many dangers but the other renegade never failed to strike true fear into her. If she believed in a god, bar her occasional prayers to Robin Hood’s god or to the ancient Pazithi Gallifreya, then he would have put her in fear of them. He always had, ever since he'd tried to kill her. She'd regenerated since then, actually been hung, successfully. It was still more horrifying than actual death had been, the knowledge that another Time Lord had been trying to kill her, and in the cruellest possible way.

“If the Doctor is to die,” He continued, tapping the fingers of one hand absently on the console, “then it will be at my hand and my hand alone, and certainly not at the jurisdiction of some two-bit conman who thinks he knows madness!”

Roda raised an eyebrow. The outburst had caught her off guard. “And if I help you – the Doctor – now, who says you won’t just kill him yourself? And me, while you’re at it?”

“Oh, I’m not asking you to trust me, I'm-!”

Roda slit the ropes at last and swung the arm with the arrowhead blade at the Master’s chest without further ado, but he anticipated the move. Maybe he’d known all along. Grabbing her wrist he twisted cruelly, friction burning the skin, and Roda’s weapon dropped from her grasp to skitter across the cool, metallic floor. The Master twisted harder, hard enough for her to cry out in pain, and then grabbed her other wrist, pinning them together against the console.

“I’m telling you to obey me.”

“Never.”

“And let the Doctor be executed? I have other more willing partners Redjay but another Time Lord would make my life much simpler, and I’d have thought you’d appreciate a chance to get back at this particular enemy.” Roda hummed thoughtfully, curling her hands into fists. The Master loomed over her expectantly, satisfied that her interest was piqued enough to keep her temper and survival instincts at bay. “Well?”

Roda jerked her head at the console. “Where are you taking me?”

“Gallifrey.” The Master let go of the Redjay’s wrists, watching as she rubbed the raw skin, and then paced back around to the other side of the TARDIS’ console. “We have a counsel to interrupt.”


	2. Chapter 2

“This can’t be protocol!”

The Doctor slammed his hands down on the banister in front of him, multi-coloured coat flapping behind him as he stood up. His eyes went wide and he stared between the Council members and the monitor that led to the Matrix, mouth ajar. The Valeyard had just made for the Matrix and the Doctor would have followed immediately, were it not for the sight on the monitor; or, rather, the people. The Valeyard, the Redjay and the Master. The screen was split in three between the Master, explaining the situation; the Valeyard, tampering with the Matrix; and the Redjay, armed with recording devices and cursing profusely. Those old enough to remember the Redjay’s trial recognized the feathers and went slightly pale, muttering that it was a good thing Rassilon was no longer presiding over the Court.

The Doctor’s fists went white, and he turned to the Inquisitor, uncurling his knuckles to raise both hands beseechingly.

“Sagacity, the Redjay is clearly not there of her own wishes!”

The Inquisitor whispered to the Council, then nodded, addressing both the Doctor and the Master. The latter she looked at with some suspicion, the former with new and apologetic eyes in the absence of the clearly guilty Valeyard. “The court acknowledges this fact. Master,” She turned to look straight at the scene, and the Master tipped his head in arrogant, mocking attention. “Can you explain yourself?”

“I thought this was the Doctor’s trial?” The Master smirked, folding his arms and tapping his leather gloved fingers against the sleek velvet of his coat. He licked his lips, interrupting before the Inquisitor could continue. “However I can inform the court that the Redjay is indeed acting on her own wishes, to aid the Doctor.” He split his hands amicably, shrugging nonchalantly. “What happens to her now is none of my concern. I helped her into the Matrix – after all, what better way to prove my point that the Matrix was not defensible than letting in a Time Lady famously, ah, deleted from it?” He smirked. “Furthermore, I brought Glitz and Miss Bush to testify,” The human and near human stood to the side, respectfully quiet, “and here I am, barely escaping catastrophe by the skin of my teeth!” Glitz snorted, and the Master narrowed his eyes just for a second. Composing himself, he put one hand on his heart. “Sagacity, I am innocent of this affair.”

“No, but!” The Doctor spluttered, pointing at the monitor. “Roda – the Redjay has no reason to try and sabotage the trial!” He frowned, “Maybe I haven’t seen her in regenerations but hell’s bells, isn’t that stretching the truth a little bit?”

“Is there evidence to prove that the Redjay isn't simply interfering for the sake of interference?” The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, tapping her jaw with one nail. “After all, I’m sure that everyone present here recalls that the Redjay was exiled under Rassilon’s era for high treason, collaboration with shobogans and...” She faltered, and an older Time Lord leant over, whispering, “Seventeen breaks of the Non-Interference Policy. She is, in fact, breaking exile by returning to Gallifrey without a court summons.” She glanced apologetically – yet sternly – at the Doctor, “Her word alone cannot be used in a court of law, Doctor.”

“Yes I know that but can the word of an ex-President not be taken?”

“Can I interrupt?” Both Inquisitor and Doctor blinked as Sabalom Glitz himself stepped forward, ignoring all the rules. “I don’t know much of what’s going on but the Redjay she’s a thief, aye? Escaped the law, wanted across the universe, apparently actually likes this one,” he jerked his thumb at the bristling Doctor, “I’m willing to put money on she’s got a plan up her sleeve.” The Inquisitor glared at the idea of a bet, and Glitz took a step backwards, clearing his throat. “Just saying.”

“See!” The Doctor grinned, glancing at the door to the Matrix. It was clear he was itching to jump into action, “The Redjay’s word may not count in court, Sagacity, but I would vouch for her with mine. What's more, I demand the right to call her as a witness! A guard should be sent into the Matrix to seize her from the Scrapyard’s hands, and seize the Scrapyard while they’re at it!”

His fist all but thumped down on the table in front of him like a makeshift gavel, and all but the Master jumped backwards in alarm. When no one made any move to accommodate his demands, the Doctor pushed himself to his full height, glancing imploringly at anybody who was looking his way before turning and running for the door. As guards leaped to stop him, the Master nodded his head pointedly, sending Glitz racing after the Doctor with a loud groan. By the time the guards caught them up, the two men had already entered the Matrix. When the guards returned empty handed, the Master was smug.

“Somebody has to help him!” Mel finally spoke again, stepping forward and batting her eyelashes at the Inquisitor. She stared in horror at the monitor, hoping to see some glimpse of the Doctor on the screen, her shoulders falling when she saw nothing. “Please!”

The Inquisitor gestured towards the monitor with a resigned sigh. “All we can do is watch.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been written after the others, for elisi, and is a new addition as of 29/07/14.

Roda wasn't above admitting when she'd been tricked. She just didn't like it, either.

Just what else she'd expected from the Master, she wasn't sure. Perhaps it was that for all her hatred of him (and fear, admittedly) after what had happened between them on Bandraginus Five, she'd thought him capable of at least behaving himself where the Doctor was concerned. After all, from the way the Doctor spoke of him, and the fact that the Master seemed to offer him a sort of grudging quarter, it was clear they had been more than just friends, once upon a time. Roda wasn't stupid. But she'd let her guard just that little bit down – trying to cooperate, on her own part, for the Doctor's sake – and that had been all she'd needed to get left behind in the Matrix with no indication of the way out, and a crashing headache.

When the Master had explained her plan, she'd had her doubts from the start. In conception, at least, it did make sense. After her exile, all trace of her existence, so far as she knew (and as far as had always been the case) had been wiped from the Matrix. Her genes could not be accessed by a doctor for looming, no one could 'google' her, to coin a phrase she'd once heard on Earth. As far as Gallifrey was concerned and in every area but the memories of those who'd known of her before her exile, Rodageitmososa did not exist. There were traces of 'the Redjay' for those determined to find them, but there was no information beyond a name.

Roda had never heard of the Keeper of the Matrix, probably because she had never paid the greatest attention in Gallifreyan History 101. After all, being taught by Professor Borusa had always given her a sour taste in her mouth. She'd had even less of an inkling that the Matrix was something you could physically access as well as mentally, and the thought left an even more bitter taste. She'd heard of the Seventh Door, and of course she knew the Key of Rassilon, but she'd always thought they were myths.

She'd always suspected that the evidence used in her trial had been fabricated, or at least unfairly stacked against her (after all, non-interference policy or not it had seemed somehow ridiculous to use future crimes against her (especially ones that she still hadn't committed)). But if the Matrix could be breached, and the Council knew it, then it had to be proven that it could be done by someone inexperienced. Which was the first of two reasons where Roda came in.

Of course had she realised that the Master was sending her in just to keep his nose clean if the Council asked questions later, she'd have enthusiastically told him where to stick it. Even for a chance to flaunt their rules for a 'higher cause'.

The other reason, he'd argued, that it had to be Roda who went into the Matrix was that it would give him something to latch onto when using her (and the clues to his betrayal should have been in the word 'using') as evidence. If Rodageitmososa was a 'virus' to the Matrix then it was something he could easily find. Unfortunately, it had turned out to be a double-edged sword; if the virus could invade, the host could fight back.

From the second the Master had sneaked her in (which was disorientating enough – being on Gallifrey again, after all these years) through the back door, as it was, she'd had a crashing headache. Like a hundred, a million voices at once. Every piece of information in the Matrix drowning her. Before her exile, it had been child's play to filter the noise down into what you wanted to hear but now, it was pandemonium.

At least she'd had a plan of her own. The Master, it had become very clear, very quickly, intended her to be nothing but a decoy. He'd sold the plan by saying she'd be in and out in a second, and then shut the door behind him, presumably hoping to be rid of her as a nice little bonus to his machinations. But she'd been suspicious enough to have had quick root around his TARDIS for something useful. The TARDIS itself had only let her into three rooms in her wandering, so presumably the Master knew she'd been looking around and had thought she'd find nothing useful. She hadn't managed to find a weapon (he'd confiscated her knives) but she had found a length of rope (which she hadn't hidden) and a couple of recording devices (which she had).

The rope as it turned out never came in handy. She hadn't been sure what sort of thing to expect in the Matrix, but it certainly hadn't turned out to be full of cliffs, like Gallifrey itself. Instead she had found herself in what resembled a 19th century suburban England. She'd assumed it was somebody's memories and – taking out the recording devices and starting to film – had wandered aimlessly until she'd come across an enormous warehouse belonging to, apparently, a J. J. Chambers. Which was, she decided, about as far from being a Gallifreyan sort of name as was humanely possible.

And somebody was following her. With all the voices suffocating her, she had no sense of how long she'd been in the Matrix for before she'd noticed. Lowering the camera and swearing profusely, aware that the effort and stress was breaking out in a sweat, Roda pushed her hair off her face and thumbed the pause button on one of the recording devices. She glanced down at the dictaphone-like machine, squinting in the darkness. Three hours... it felt like so much longer. She scowled, slowing to an ambling walk. That was when she'd heard the footsteps. They'd stopped with her.

She spun around, looking for her pursuer. Could it be the Valeyard that the Master had mentioned? Or this Keeper of the Matrix? Damn it all, maybe he'd lied to her all the time. This could easily have been a trap, she'd thought that the Doctor might be in danger, and with the strange goings-on back on Ravalox had believed the first explanation she'd been given without even thinking. And just what did she hope to achieve by recording inside the Matrix? Get some evidence? She had a sound recorder and a video one. But unless she bumped into the Valeyard himself (which she hoped she wouldn't) anything she had would be useless, and/or confiscated. 

Damn it, she wasn't just going to sit here and let herself be crept up on. Roda broke into a jog, and then started to run, winding through the warehouse and past all manner of strange things in an attempt to lose her follower. Her head was pounding and spinning, and the video camera was just pointing at the ground, the dictaphone grasped in one clenched fist. She rounded a bend and hit a dead end, turning on her heels quickly lest she be cornered and-

The last thing she saw was a blur of black fabric, and a fist. As Roda hit the ground out cold, the camera clattered to the warehouse floor and kept rolling. The robed figure knelt down beside her, chuckled, and then reached towards the recording device. Everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor had defeated the Valeyard, so far as anybody could tell, Mel had opted for a ride home from the Doctor, saying that she wasn’t actually travelling with him still in her timeline, and the Master seemed to be trapped in the Matrix with Sabalom Glitz. Guards had been sent in to the deal with the Master and rescue Glitz. The Redjay – beleaguered and bruised and belligerent – had been marched into the Council room to answer for the crime of returning to Gallifrey, after having been exiled, without an express court summons, and working with another renegade Time Lord in a potential terrorist attack against the Council. The Doctor had argued that a memory probe and a look in the Matrix would prove that Roda had worked with the Master against her wishes and had one of her ‘crimes’ pardoned before he’d had to take Mel home, which left Roda to answer for a break in her exile that frankly couldn’t be denied no matter how hard anybody tried. At least this time she was being treated as an equal and not as a traitor – in response to the Doctor’s passionate argument that she had helped save the day – and wasn’t locked up in a Decadron chamber. And she'd been given an icepack for her head. It was, she’d grudgingly admitted, a start.

She had turned down a lawyer; Roda wasn’t the trusting type, and although Rassilon was no longer around to stifle her rights and nerves, there was no telling who was a part of the Council or of the Jury. Rassilon supporters, those who would have voted her guilty had Rassilon not passed judgement, those who disagreed fervently with her well-documented view that the shobogans should be given their rights back. Had Roda known more about the Red Sisters, or even known where they were, she would have argued their case too. Some in the Council Chambers simply regarded her as a traitorous pagan or an Earth-botherer and had refused to even hear her speak, excusing themselves from the Court in a cycle until a full room of Time Lords willing to listen had made the proceedings legal and the trial could properly begin. Roda would have been more comfortable if the Doctor was still around to help her argue her case – he knew politics better than she – but at least the Inquisitor had promised he would have access to the courtroom on his return.

For the first time, Roda was grateful for having regenerated; coming up in front of the court with long, pitch black hair was definitely much better than doing so with cropped pink hair that made her look several years younger. She rubbed her arms, standing with her back just away from a wall to make sure that nobody could creep up on her. She wasn’t fond of the claustrophobia, standing up on her podium, but she was more scared of the Time Lords than she was the small space, even after Time Agency restraints, Isolation Chambers and deep, narrow wells. She had been given Time Lord robes to replace the clothing the Valeyard had torn; they were comfortable, made of a good fabric, but bare, devoid of colour. It was a slap in the face to the collapse of Roda’s House and her exile from the Prydonian Chapter. Although the red and gold colouring of the Prydonians was Rassilon’s, she would happily have worn it instead of this. Even her father’s librarian robes would be better, but they’d confiscated those from her years ago. All she had left of him was what books from his collection she'd managed to steal.

She grimaced to admit that she’d stolen small things to remind her of Rassilon, too.

“You know what you stand accused of, Redjay.” Roda wanted to ask that they use her full name, as a matter of pride, but didn’t dare push her luck. After all, nobody had called her Rodageitmososa since her exile. It had always been Redjay, or Roda to a small, select few friends. “What do you plead?”

Roda swallowed. “Guilty.” She grabbed onto the rails in front of her, keeping her back from the rest of the Courtroom. Unlike last time, they weren’t electrocuted, nor were her wrists bound. In her absence from Gallifrey, the planet seemed to have become less barbaric, and advanced further, as though Rassilon had wound up being the Pythia of his time. Roda didn’t know what to think of the vaguely unfamiliar planet, but it still felt like a sort of old, half forgotten home, no matter how it changed or grew. 

She could still tell anyone – without even having to think about it – how long it would take to get from the Citadel to her old home, or to Rassilon’s private grounds. She knew how many steps there were up to the door of her father’s library and she knew from the Doctor that it mercifully still stood, and was still occasionally frequented by Gallifreyan historians and anyone looking for an obscure tome that even the Great Library had forgotten to stock. Who ran it she didn't know, but she hoped they did so well. She even knew how long it would take to climb Mount Perdition, as she had done so many times, to watch the moons and stars. But the Council didn’t want to hear that, and she had to shout over the muttering and discussion to finish what she had to say.

“But – but with good reason to be!”

“And what is this reason?”

Roda squirmed for a second, and then gripped the bar again. She leaned over, all but jumping over it, and pointed one hand, shaking, at the monitor. “I came back to help a friend. And my exile was rigged from the start!” She growled. Damn, she'd not meant to make this personal... “Lord Rassilon was blinded by – by his own arrogance! I was a scapegoat, and the evidence was not shared with the defendant!” She’d had an argument, but it deteriorated in the face of a chance to really beat into the people who had for better or worse turned her life upside down. Her hand was still pointed at the monitor, and stammering, she continued. “That evidence, like today, may have been tampered with. You’ve all seen that it’s possible! And if – if – if my mind was connected to the Matrix I could prove it myself, but no! Old Rassilon made sure of that!” By the time Roda finished, she was shaking, and the guards dotted around the room were giving each other knowing looks. But the Inquisitor lifted a hand to stop them, and Roda stopped to gather her breath, dropping back into her seat and letting her head fall into her hands.

“Is the defendant’s only argument a vile tirade against Lord Rassilon the Great!?”

Another member of the Council had stood up, snorting angrily, and his claim was echoed with shouts and encouragement from many others. Another Council member turned to the Inquisitor.

“My Lady, it is clear from the Redjay’s lack of control that she has no regard for our laws or for our history. She has not even denied her own sentence,” She barked a laugh, “only added to it!”

The Inquisitor nodded, a beacon of calm amongst the uproar. A few smashes of her gavel and the room fell silent again. “Noted, Lord Praciturn.” She turned to Roda again, waiting for her to lift her head. When she didn’t, she spoke over the feathers and paint. “Redjay, your previous charges are not up for discussion. The time for appeal has long since passed. The Court – and all of Gallifrey – recognizes you as traitor, and that sentence cannot be withdrawn by any but Rassilon himself.” Roda made to argue but the Inquisitor raised her hand for silence again. It was remarkable how effective that simple move was. “However, your admittance that you return to Gallifrey was unlawful has also been noted, and the Court may be willing to show you leniency in light of recent events should you agree to leave Gallifrey immediately.”

“But my Lady-!”

“Objection!”

The Doctor was a blaze of colour as he burst back into the room, shooting Roda a potent wink before striding up to stand between the two boxes – defendant and prosecutor – hands on his hips. The Inquisitor had to stifle a groan. “Doctor, as I believe I have said before, your over-exuberance is not befitting of a court of law.”

“Of course Sagacity,” The Doctor shot her a winning smile, voice only a touch quieter. “I was merely wound up by my recent dealings with the Knacker’s Yard and I –“

“The Valeyard is not a part of this case, Doctor. When he is discovered, if he is still living he will answer for his crimes.”

“Of course.”

“But if your claim is related to the Redjay, and the Redjay agrees, then you may be permitted to speak on her behalf.”

The Doctor turned to face Roda, raising an eyebrow arrogantly, and she nodded hurriedly. Whatever he had to say, it might help. Although, she didn’t know this Doctor well. That Roda would be forced to leave Gallifrey again was inevitable but an hour, less even, to collect some of her father’s stuff... Surely she was owed that, for helping save the planet... Sort of. The Doctor had done most of the work where that was concerned. The Doctor smiled back, then turned to face the Inquisitor, clearly pleased with himself. “I may have missed the start of the case, but I have reason to believe the Redjay was brought to Gallifrey not, I admit, by a court summons, but by force. Her actions while here proved honourable and unlike some people,” He scowled up at the monitor, thinking about the Valeyard and the Master very prominently, “She caused no direct trouble by her own wishes. Futhermore," he pointed exaggeratedly to the rising swollen bruise above one of Roda's eyes, "she sustained injuries while attempting to benefit the court by providing evidence and expedite her departure.

Similarly,” He raised one hand, clearly pleased with his conclusions, “While on Gallifrey she has obeyed her exile to the letter!” He thumped his loosely balled fist down into his other palm, “She has answered to a name other than her birth one, stayed within the Citadel walls – Matrix notwithstanding Sagacity,” He smiled at the Inquisitor again, and Roda winced, “And if I may be allowed to show my evidence for my claim via the Matrix – if the Keeper of the Matrix may first validate it, of course – then I would like to propose that Roda not only receive no mark on her record, but also be permitted some time on Gallifrey as thanks for her role in defeating the Valeyard.” He shot Roda a careful look, “It is my belief that even members of this very Council expressed disbelief that the Redjay was given no time to gather her effects or senses before her exile.”

He had them there. Even Council members who had glowered at Roda before fell silent, nodding. Roda didn’t dare speak for worry of jeopardizing things. When the evidence was brought up, she couldn’t look; the Matrix had given her a migraine while inside and here, her severed link to the memory bank made it sound like little more than white noise. But she knew what the Doctor was showing the Court, and he cut it off at precisely the right time. The Council watched as Roda landed on Ravalox, and within minutes was clearly trying to shake a pursuer. They couldn’t get memories from Roda to back it up because they’d cut her off from the Matrix centuries ago. It was all from the Master’s point of view, as he ambushed her, turning a weapon on her and leading her back to his TARDIS.

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow as the Doctor explained how the Tissue Compression Eliminator would have worked – Roda shivering at the thought – and agreed that yes, since Roda had been forced at weapon point return to Gallifrey had not been a difficult choice. The Doctor stopped the footage as the Master’s TARDIS took off again, and Roda’s – left behind on the planet – set off the loud, unheard SOS signal. 

The Court was adjourned. Roda sat, muttering and growling to herself in an attempt – the Doctor suspected – to calm herself down. The Doctor paced with an agitated air, occasionally trying to interrupt the jury but being turned away every time. As his impatience grew so did Roda’s, until they were both glaring at the backs of the Council expectantly when, an hour and a half later, the Inquisitor took her place on the podium once more. The call was made for silence, and when it – and the conclusion – were finally given, Roda couldn’t stop laughing. The Doctor eased her down from her podium, her appointed guard for the two hours she had to collect what she needed from Gallifrey before she would be sent back into exile, and the lights of the Council Room went black.

Somewhere in the distance, a mad laugh rose from within the Matrix walls.


End file.
